Monday, December 29, 2014

It is my pleasure to have Houston Havens on my blog again. I can't believe her third book in the Psychic Menage series is already out (published by Syn Publishing)! If you haven't checked out this series you definately should!

Blurb:

Daughter of the Dirt Dweller’s ruler; Tessla
Reto attempts to escape the Underworld after the mysterious disappearance of
her best friend. She knows her untimely death is also near if her father,
Landen Reto discovers her part in forming the rebels to fight against him. The
two men sent to help her get away are killed and she’s rescued by a handsome
stranger…or is she?

Faerydae returns to Earth in search of an inner
peace his soul can’t find after the death of his friend Chandra Lamar. Instead,
he finds himself in an unplanned rescue of a woman that stirs everything he’s
fought a lifetime to deny. Can Faerydae stay focused on his goal to expose his
past and true Fae bloodline, or will destiny play her hand?

Shomar’s uncomplicated world is tossed asunder
when his best friend, Faerydae, shows up with a stray puppy and a woman who
steals the heart of his soul the moment he looks at her. Only to discover
Faerydae and the woman claim they can’t stand each other, yet his intuition
tells him otherwise. Will Shomar be able to win the woman of his dreams or will
Faerydae always have her heart?

Will Tessla find her freedom? Will Faerydae keep
his, or will Shomar succeed in his plan to expose them to their hidden ecstasy?

Excerpt:

Faerydae proceeded to tether her hands to the post of the captain’s
chair with one of the silky ropes. An inflaming need consumed her the second
she felt the material touch her flesh. Those were no normal ropes. They infused
her body with a demanding desire for the ultimate pleasure.

“Spread her legs apart.” Faerydae commanded Shomar.

He did as ordered and grabbed her ankles, parting them wide to expose
her throbbing pussy, making her feel vulnerable. The tawdry revealing of her
wet and swollen genitalia uncovered a secret pleasure of hers; exhibitionism.
She’d spent a life time covering up her need and the pleasure she got from
exposing herself. Until now, her only outlet had been released through
fantasies.

Faerydae smirked as if he knew her hidden pleasure. As he tied another
one of his transcending ropes around one of her ankles, her needs heightened
for more decadent behavior. She clamped her teeth down over her bottom lip,
fighting the urge to demand he bind her pussy lips with one of his magic ropes.
She wanted to feel the silkiness of the braid slid through her wet slit and
rake over her needy asshole. She lowered her head to her chest and moaned as
she warred with her need to expose her dirty desires.

“I want to see...” He used
the word as if he knew about her need. “...how wet her beautiful pussy is and
if she’s ready for us.” Faerydae stood there ogling her, and she felt her
clitoris tug at her in arousal. Her nipple hardened as she watched him and
Shomar gawk at her wet slit. Faerydae’s mesmerized stare focused on her pussy
was making her heart pound with exhilaration. He was studying her feminine
part; how her outer swollen lips cover every fold of her inner lips. His gaze
seemed to absorb her seductive, innocent pink coloring, but when she saw his
tongue move over his bottom lip with a hungry swipe, she just about came. Her
legs tensed. Her pussy throbbed. Her heart filled with pleasure. She could see
he desired her pussy, be it wrapped around his rock-hard cock or slipping his
tongue between her fleshy slit, he wanted her.

“Oh God!” Her mind was on fire with a burning arousal, and her body
was in need of their throbbing cocks.

Shomar’s gaze drifted from her pussy up her body to stop at her
breasts. She jostled them for his watching pleasure. He moved up, acting as if
he were checking her wrist ties, but manage a taunting brush of his arm across
her hard nipples several times, as he feigned tightening the knots on her
wrists. When he backed away, his let his fingers grazed over her breast then
returned to tweak her nipple.

Houston Havens retired from a successful modeling career and
an adventurous jet-set lifestyle to set the world on fire with her erotic
romance books. A tenacious Irish lass, she strives to entertain with seductive
stories created from her decadent imagination and traces of a provocative
lifestyle she may or may not admit to.

Her interest in the paranormal, fascination with quantum
science, passion with myths, and the lure of her mysterious Celtic Irish-Druid
bloodlines are combined with generally unknown truths, strange facts, and
questionable fiction. Her novels reflect a mix of the past, present, and
future, with sexy blends of futuristic science fiction, paranormal fantasy,
western romance, and always love everlasting. An author of six romances, a
seven book erotic romance series and numerous articles in literary magazines.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

James and Micah both face serious illness. Checking off things from their bucket lists, they find themselves drawn to a club like none they’d ever experienced. From the doorman’s leather kilt, to the waiter’s jockstrap uniform, they thought they had seen it all, when a tower of masculinity in leather and stainless steel walks onto the stage and turns the couples lives upside down and inside out.

Excerpt

Micah made the landing and stood watching James ascend. A few seconds later, he reached the top and looked around. They found themselves outside a door almost as dark as the night, set into a wall of cimmerian brick that disappeared into the gloom on either side. The doorman standing beside it was equally striking. He stood taller than James's six feet, and wore only a black leather kilt and heavy boots that seemed to consume the lower part of his muscular legs. No one would dare challenge the man. His torso rippled in ways James had never seen before. His face was rugged, covered with a few days scruff trimmed precisely along his jawline. Before he could think of what they should do, the doorman spoke.

“Welcome to Razor. What’s your pleasure tonight?”

He stood speechless as the deep bass of the man’s voice resonated through the night. “The music. The music is wonderful. We caught it from a few blocks off and wanted to hear more.”

A smile emerged on the man’s face and changed him from executioner to guardian. “Of course, the music. You’ve found the right place. Just in time, too. Tonight is drawing to a close.”

He grasped the bronze door pull that was easily as long and thick as James's forearm and opened the massive door with little apparent effort. He motioned them into the portal with a wave of his hand. “Go. Enjoy yourself.”

His eyes gleamed. “I like the way you taste.” He dropped to his knees and sucked my length into his mouth.

“Oh,” I said in a deep moan.

He alternately licked and sucked as if getting acquainted with my cock. My pulse thundered in my neck.

“More,” I growled.

Once finished with his inspection, he took more of me a little at a time into his moist mouth until he’d swallowed all of my cock. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but he did not stop. His face was a strange combination of concentration and appreciation. He sucked my girth with fervor until my

breaths came in choppy pants.

My hips bucked, and I thrust into the sweet cavern of his mouth. The smaller man kneeling at my feet no longer controlled our dalliance. My cock bumped the back of his throat as I fucked him hard and fast. Sweat coated my forehead and my suddenly too-tight clothes.

Friday, December 19, 2014

New Year’s Eve is a night filled
with bright colorful lights, rambunctious outings, and a good amount of
mischief. It also marks the passage of time, bringing to mind our hopes for the
future, the exhilaration that comes with change, and fond memories of days
past. Part of Decadent Publishing’s 1Night Stand line, my paranormal romantic
comedy Fireworks at Midnight features
a struggling college graduate who is just coming to terms with the thrills and
perils of newfound independence. When her best friend’s older brother rolls
back into town, this intrepid young witch is faced with help she doesn’t want,
protection she doesn’t need, and the reality that this warlock cop no longer
thinks of her as a “troublesome little sister.”

Add a pinch of magic,
supernatural mayhem, and Madame Eve’s renowned matchmaking service, and we’ve
got the beginnings of a stormy love story. Those who’ve read my Christmas release
Frosty Relations will already know Dulcina
“Sweets” Gato, this tale’s smartass heroine. In keeping with the holiday spirit
I’m giving away a $15 gift card. To enter, leave a comment here and drop your
details in the Rafflecopter widget at the bottom of this post. [or at my
website: TaraQuan.com/FireworksAtMidnight]

Fireworks at Midnight (A Witch’s Night Out, 3)

Recent college graduate and
part-time cat familiar Dulcina “Sweets” Gato is having the worst New Year’s Eve
in living memory. End of year expenses trigger serious cash flow problems, and
her microwave just went up in smoke. To make matters worse, her best friend’s
overprotective big brother is back in town, and his return threatens to put a
huge crimper on her nocturnal activities. The only thing she can look forward
to is Madame Eve’s 1-Night Stand service. After all, she’s sick and tired of
being a 21-year-old virgin.

Enforcement Agent Mikal Knight
is a warlock on a mission. Having finally scored a transfer to Washington,
D.C., he’s now at liberty to pursue the object of his desires—his baby sister’s
best friend. But first, he has a vigilante to track down and a mysterious
matchmaking service to investigate. Sent on an undercover operation, he resigns
himself to a pointless 1-Night Stand on New Year’s Eve. As luck would have it,
his mystery date’s identity might let him kill several birds with one stone.

Genre: Paranormal Romantic Comedy, Interracial/Multicultural

Excerpt:

His gaze drifted to her chest. A
gust of wind sliced over it, tearing off the top- most button. She jumped in
her seat. “What the hell?”

“Welcome to Strip Interrogation.
The rules are simple.” Her toes curled at the playful yet predatory gleam in
his stormy eyes. Yup, he got her invitation loud and clear. “Whenever you give
me a crap answer, I take away a stitch. Any questions?”

She licked her lips. “Is this
how Enforcement trained you to question helpless witches?”

He crossed his arms and put on a
mockery of a stern expression. “[…] The gloves come off when there’s a badass
in the car.”

Her cheeks warmed at the
backhanded compliment. Placing her hands primly on her lap, she squeezed her
upper arms together to better showcase what little boobage she had. When she
heard his warning growl, she batted her eyelashes. “What’s your question,
Detective?”

He bared his teeth at her, but
his breath had turned shallow. […] In a quicksilver move, he lunged forward and
captured her nape with one hand. Holding her shoulder in place, he looped his
free arm around her waist, splayed his fingers against her lower back, and
yanked her toward him. The motion tipped her off balance. With a yelp, she
placed her hands on the seat and straightened her arms. The position arched her
back, lifting her breasts like an offering. […]

He settled his thumb between her
collarbones. “I warned you about the skirt.”

The hairs on the back of her
neck stood on end. Damn, was that menacing tone sexy. “Any chance we can work
this out? I’m running low on winter clothes.”

With his free hand, he explored
her abs, his fingers lingering on each groove long enough to send a tingle down
her spine. His hungry expression more than paid for the hours she’d spent doing
crunches. “What do you have in mind?”

Having devoured plenty of
inspiring reading material, she had a long list of things she wanted to try.
“I’m all stocked up on underwear.”

Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, paranormal worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Her characters, armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. Learn more at www.taraquan.com
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Thursday, December 18, 2014

I wrote a F/F short story after attending a Little Black Dress party. My town hosts one every year to help ladies get in the Christmas spirit. I not only got in the Christmas spirit but I was inspired to write this story.

As my gift to you I am posting it here for free. I hope you enjoy it. This is a sweet story. I know most of my stories are hot and steamy but not this one. It is also contemporary so a bit different. I hope you enjoy reading it though.

LITTLE RED DRESS

The
Little Red Dress Party at the convention center served as ladies night out
before the Christmas rush began. Many of the women were squealing and
celebrating a night away from their husbands, boyfriends, and children. I, on
the other hand, paid the $25 for ticket to ogle all the scantily clad females
in attendance.

Sitting
at the bar, I sipped on a cranberry juice cocktail, keeping one eye on the
dance floor. People watching hadn’t gotten too interesting yet, as none in
attendance were plastered. Snowflake-shaped colored lights danced across the
dark room. I had worried the party would be too much holiday cheer for me to
take, but so far the DJ had stayed away from any song that mentioned the winter
season. The last song “Six Pack Summer” nearly made me laugh. Perhaps thinking
about sunshine and beaches employed the power of positive thinking?

Outside
snow fell in a constant white sheet, and I knew the roads would be a slick
sheet of ice by the time the party ended at midnight. Good thing I had taken a
taxi here and planned to call one to take me home. Let the cab driver deal with
this miserable weather.

A
woman with silver streaks in her hair and a leopard print shrug over her red
dress walked up to the bar. I thought she’d sit at the chair next to me but she
just smiled. “It is a dance party, you know? Why don’t you dance? Have some
fun.”

I
laughed and raised my glass. “I am having fun.”

“You
came here just for the drinks?”

“There
are free appetizers, too,” I pointed out. Platters of mini muffins, grapes,
cheese, crackers, salami and other finger foods lined a long banquet table
along one of the walls.

She
cocked an eyebrow and looked to be struggling for her next words.

I
waved her off. “I’m not a very good dancer,” I explained. “Maybe after a refill
I will feel more confident to get out there.”

She
gave a quick nod, apparently satisfied by my response.

I
needed a good song to dance too, and preferably a partner. Finishing my drink,
I paid for a refill.

I’d
come to look not touch, I reminded myself. Running into another lesbian in the
crowd would be quite lucky considering the small number of us in this rural,
conservative community. If I was truly looking for love I should move to the
city. There they actually had bars where lesbians hung out. No such options
here.

And
this holiday dance party wasn’t exactly rocking my socks off. Although thanks
to the Kiss under the Mistletoe drink a warm flush had spread across my body.

I
moved away from the bar and found a table with a good view of the dance floor.
The dance floor I had yet to grace with my presence. I snorted. I was born with
two left feet. Two very large left feet. The other ladies should be relieved I
was keeping them out of harm’s way.

I
eyed a blonde woman with luscious curves on top and bottom of her five foot
five frame. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders and swayed with her as
she moved. Back turned, I took in her open-backed dress. Eyes closed, she
seemed to be in her own little world as if listening to music playing in her
head instead of the song blasting out of the speakers.

I
fanned myself with one of the masks provided for those in attendance. The black
mask with silver glitter trim did little to cool the heat growing in my chest.
I wetted my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. Maybe I should push my way through the
crowd and head to the drinking fountain.

Except
that would mean leaving this woman and she could be lost in the crowd again by
the time I returned. After all, I had been here an hour and had just now spied
her. Wow, she was stunning.

Once
the song ended, her eyes opened and she stared right at me.

Her
cornflower blues framed by thick lashes were model worthy. Damn her whole body
was model worthy. Why was she here instead of New York or Las Angeles? Then I
realized her stature was against her. The world was against short people.

I
didn’t put a height requirement on my women and I appreciated beauty when I saw
it. My heart forgot how to beat and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. At
first glance it looked like she was showing entirely too much skin until I
realized the sheer dress had a nude underlay between the red flowers covering
her front. God, that was sexy. Had she realized I was watching her? My cheeks
burned, and I hoped she couldn’t see their rosy color in the dark room.

She
offered a friendly smile and then sauntered over to the bar. While I didn’t
need another drink, I followed. It was like an invisible cord had tied the two
of us together. She sat and I took the seat next to her.

“Back
so soon?” The bartender asked a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Just
water this time,” I said, handing him a dollar. He nodded and set a bottled
water on the counter. It gave me the opportunity to quench my thirst without
leaving this woman’s presence. Well worth a dollar.

“What
drink is good?” the woman asked me.

“I’ve
only tried Kiss under the Mistletoe. It is pretty good if you like
cranberries.”

She
nodded and ordered one for herself. I would have ordered it for her, but that
would seem very forward and she was likely straight anyway.

“Are
you here with someone?” I asked.

She
shook her head. “I was going to come here with a friend but she caught the flu
that’s going around.”

“Oh,
sorry to hear that.”

She
sipped her drink. The way her lips caressed the rim of the glass made mine
tingle. I wondered what it would feel like for that soft pink glossy mouth to
touch mine.

I
drew a deep breath pushing the thought away. It was foolish to get so worked
up. My gaydar hadn’t gone off.

“This
is very good. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“I’m
glad you like it. Not sure what the secret ingredient is,” I eyed the bartender
before returning my attention to the beauty, “but he won’t say.”

She
laughed and my heart fluttered. “And he shouldn’t. It is a secret after all.”

I
grinned, glad to see her enjoying herself. If I could soak in some of her
happiness maybe her joyful spirit would rub off on me. My friends were right I
needed to get out more. Being a homebody did nothing to boost my spirits or
improve my love life.

I
took a gulp of my bottled water wishing it was burning liquor. Something strong
would be better to rid myself of the ache in my chest. How long had it been
since my last serious relationship with a woman? I’d moved to this small town
for a job. The job was great but the partner hunting sucked. Three years now?
No, it had been four years since I’d been with a woman past the second date.

Not
that this was a date.

The
woman’s tongue darted out of her mouth and swiped across her lips. “I’m Traci,
by the way. Traci with an i.”

I
liked that name. It was fun and flirty and matched her personality and her
short red dress. The dress that left little to my imagination with the
ballerina skirt and cute cap sleeves.

I
shrugged. “It is a family name,” I explained. “I’m named after my great-great
grandmother. There are a lot of Marta’s in my family.”

“Likely
none who could wear a red dress as good as you. That’s a classic. Jackie O
style with jagged neckline and a little black belt.”

My
eyes widened. “You know fashion?”

She
took another drink. “Fashion is what I do. Well, I don’t model or anything. I’m
not tall enough for that.” She giggled. “Not even with three inch heels.”

I
tapped my fingers on my water bottle. “So what fashion do you do? Make the
outfits?”

“Heavens
no I can’t sew one stitch. I photograph them. I fly all around the country
taking pictures of pampered models. So I’ve learned a thing or two about
fashion.”

“I
see. So what brings you to this small town?”

“Visiting
family for the holidays,” she said. “And I try to make this party every year.”

It
wasn’t much of a party. Traci could find a better celebration anywhere she
traveled with the models, but if she came to the Little Red Dress Party regularly
I would just add it to my calendar and start the habit myself.

She
continued sipping her drink and I watched the red liquid drop faster to the
bottom than I’d like. When she finished I guessed she’d leave. Then what would
I do? I couldn’t just politely ogle her the rest of the evening.

“I’m
a lightweight,” she announced finishing her Kiss under the Mistletoe cocktail.
“We better dance before I buy another.”

The
warning and invitation in her voice made my body thrum. It was I who had
probably had one too many already. Even though I’d only had two drinks I felt
giddy. Or maybe it was just the effect Traci had on me. She hadn’t said
anything out of the ordinary. By dance she didn’t mean dance together. There
were at least forty women crowding the dance floor all doing their own moves.

“Sure,”
I said, standing. I hadn’t done any dancing yet. It was time I cut loose.

I
followed Traci on to the dance floor, keeping a couple steps behind so I could
appreciate her form and the sway of her hips. Oh my goodness that dress of hers
was a tease. I had hoped the DJ would play a slower song next, but instead the
man on stage turned on “Eye of the Tiger”.

The
women went wild. Everyone started singing along, showing off their feminine
wiles, hands in the air. Not wanting to feel left out, I joined in, jazz
fingers and all. I didn’t feel goofy when I was dancing next to Traci. If she
could throw caution to the wind and let her hair down I could too.

Not
that I had hair to let down. I maintained a cute graduated bob. Tonight I’d
even gone through the trouble of curling my short brunette locks.

After
the song ended “Night That You’ll Never Forget” played next and the women
arranged themselves into three lines on the dance floor. It seemed everyone
knew the secret moves that went with this song. “To the right, to the right, to
the left.” The move of each line followed those directions as I’d expected. Watching
Traci out of the corner of my eye, I was able to fake it well. At least I think
I did. I managed to make it through the song without falling down or knocking
anyone over.

“Whew,”
Traci said, hand on her chest. “I need to catch my breath.”

I
tried to keep my attention on her lovely face and not the rise and fall of her
chest. It was very difficult.

“Two
energetic songs back to back are all I can handle,” Traci said. “Shall we find
a seat?”

This
was the opening I needed to keep Traci all to myself for a few more minutes. My
heart fluttered and I struggled to tamp down my excitement. “I think that would
be a good idea.” The table I had been sitting at earlier was now taken. All the
tables had filled up so I walked to the back of the room and sat on the bench
that had been erected along the wall.

“You
dance quite well, Marta,” Traci said, sitting next me.

I
laughed. “And you are a very good liar.”

She
giggled and I put my hands in my lap to keep from giving her a hug. The urge to
touch her was so great I would have sat on my hands if that wouldn’t have
looked odd.

Traci
motioned to the ladies still out on the dance floor. “I don’t know how they do
it,” she mused. “I know I’m out of shape, but I didn’t think I was that out of
shape.”

“You
look pretty good in that dress,” I said, more heat in my voice than I intended.

“Thank
you,” she said, beaming. “I was afraid it would be too much. Thankfully no one
stopped me at the door to make sure I wasn’t a hooker. A cute cocktail dress
like this is all the rage in New York City but I didn’t know what the
conservatives around here would think.”

“You
were worried about other people’s opinions and you wore it anyway?”

She
nodded. “I might worry about what other people think but I do what I want.”

“I
wish I was that adventurous,” I mumbled.

“Not
really adventurous,” Traci replied and then I realized I had accidentally said
that last comment aloud. “It has to do more with self-confidence.”

“Ah.”
It was all I could think of to say. Lately my self-confidence had been in the
toilet. I worked as a receptionist at the hospital and greeted people
constantly. I had become adept at my professionally friendly demeanor. It was
more of an act than the real me though. I was nowhere that bubbly in real life.

Loneliness
fed depression and depression fed loneliness. It was a vicious cycle I needed
to break somehow.

“Got
a man in your life?” Traci asked out of the blue.

“Um…”
How should I answer this question? Should I hedge? Should I come right out and say
I was a lesbian? Would Traci end up running away from me as fast as she could?
I mean I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate but some people just didn’t feel
comfortable around gays and lesbians.

“No
man in my life,” I said at last.

Her
brows rose and a playful glint shone in her eyes. “A woman?”

Her
question caught me off guard and I struggled to breathe. The saliva in my mouth
slid thickly down my throat. “No woman either,” I replied softly.

“Hmm…
What do you want to do now? Dance more or get a drink?”

After
her brief probe into my love life I needed a drink. “I’m headed back to the
bar.”

“Okay,”
she replied cheerfully and accompanied me.

The
smell of sweat and a mixture of perfumes and deodorants crinkled my nose. At
the end of the night the dance floor would smell like a football locker room. I
ordered two Kiss under the Mistletoe drinks and Traci didn’t protest. Not sure
if she read anything into my gesture or not. I wasn’t about to ask.

“Thank
you,” Traci said, raising the glass to her lips. After finishing half the drink
she laughed uncontrollably. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Marta?”

“After
two drinks?” I replied innocently.

She
giggled even harder. “I guess it was partly my fault,” she said, staring at the
glass of red liquid. “I’m drinking on an empty stomach. I got busy today and
ran out of time.”

“Ran
out of time to eat?”

She
shrugged. “If the models I work with can live off carrot sticks why can’t I?”

I
growled clearly not liking the idea of Traci starving herself to death. “Time
to get you something to eat.”

“But
I’m not done with my drink,” she protested.

“You
can take it with you.” Grabbing her arm, I led her through the crowd to the
appetizer table. As if on cue, a pizza delivery man came into the room with a
stack of eight pizza boxes in his arms.

Some
of the women cheered and there was a rush to attack the pizzas once they were
laid on the table. I politely elbowed my way to the front and got two plates,
handing one to Traci. “Eat up,” I said. “I think the price of the pizza came
out of our ticket cost.”

Not
that she cared about the ticket price when she was making a fortune
photographing models. I always thought I’d be the one to take care of my partner,
but I knew my meager salary paled in comparison to her earnings.

Gah.
Not that that mattered at all. I wasn’t taking care of her. Well, not after the
party ended.

Traci
put two slices of pepperoni on her plate. “I like it spicy,” she said, eyeing
the pizza with a hunger I wished was directed at me. Just the thought made me
shiver. Don’t go there.

“They’re
just trying to make me thirsty again,” Traci continue, unfazed by my momentary
struck dumb moment. “The bartender is going to make a fortune in tips.”

“No
more cocktails for you until you eat your pizza.” We both need some bread to
soak up the booze.

“All
right if you insist.”

I
grabbed two pieces of Hawaiian for myself and we returned to our seats on the
bench, plates of pizza in our laps. I hoped I didn’t smear pizza sauce all over
my red dress or my face. I didn’t know which would be more mortifying.

After
eating the pizza I felt a lot better and it seemed Traci did too. She was no
longer prone to fits of giggles. That was until she headed back to the bar. I
wondered if I should stop her, but she was an adult and if she wanted to get
drunk that was her right. I’d just make sure she had a safe ride home.

Instead
of ordering another cocktail I plunked down another dollar for a bottled water.

“Have
another drink with me,” Traci said.

“I
am drinking with you,” I said, raising my water.

She
huffed and her pout was adorable. “You know what I mean.”

“You
have fun,” I said, “but I prefer to be able to walk upright if I have to
navigate the busy dance floor.”

Traci’s
eyes widened. “Dance! We should dance some more.”

Without
warning, Traci grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the dance area while “Sweet
Home Alabama” blared.

That
was as good a dance song as any.

Traci
wobbled in her high heels and I wondered if I could catch her if she stumbled
or if we’d both go down and make a scene. Having Traci land on top of me might
not be too bad, but I didn’t want to risk either of us getting hurt.

Her
dainty fingers slipped from my arm and she began to dance to the music, a
little unsteady.

I
did my best not to hover too close. The woman needed space to strut her stuff,
but I wanted to make sure I could offer a steadying arm if need be.

Almost
to the end of the song, a plastered brunette stumbled, knocking into Traci and
sending her plowing up against me.

Instinctively
I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve got you.”

She
grinned and her warm breath fanned my face. I pursed my lips together to keep
from kissing. Slowly I pushed her away until she was standing upright. I hated
the distance between us and missed the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

What was I
thinking?

“We
should get out of here,” Traci suggested.

“And
go where?”

She
shrugged. “Either your place or mine.”

I
blinked. “Um…and do what? Watch movies?” I did have an extensive movie
collection and I could pop popcorn. Spending more time with Traci would be
wonderful even if resisting her charms would be painful.

Heat
blazed in her eyes and her gaze dropped from my face and traveled lower taking
all of me in. “I can think of better things to do than watch movies.”

My
whole body tingled. “Oh.”

I
didn’t want to take advantage of Traci though. Was she just drunk and maybe
curious? If we did more than hold hands would she regret it later? Or would she
like it?

We’d
take it slow and I’d find out. She might be acting horny now, but I wasn’t
going to push her even though I longed to see her naked and on my bed.

“Sure,”
I said, trying to sound casual and failing. “I’ll call a cab.”

Walking
out of the room, I retrieved my coat from the coat check and pulled my
cellphone out of my purse, calling the taxi service I’d programmed into my
contacts.

Taking
deep breaths, I tried to relax. How long had it been since I’d taken a woman
home? At least four years. Did I even know what I was doing?

My
body thrummed. Definitely.

Offering
Traci my arm, I helped her walk across the snow covered ground. Thankfully, the
snow provided some traction and there weren’t too many slick spots. Opening the
door for her, I let her enter the cab first. We sat in silence for a few
minutes until the taxi driver had pulled onto the main road leading to my
house.

“Have
you ever done this before?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from shaking.

I
wanted her to say yes and no at the same time. If she was just curious I’d give
her the pleasure she sought. If she was serious about something more I could
give her that, too.

“Mmm-hmm,”
Traci purred. “Just not for a long time.”

My
breath caught in my throat. Did I hear
that right? “So…you’re…into women?”

“Both,”
she admitted. “I’m bi.”

“Oh.”
Now it started to make sense. “I take it you’ve been dating men?”

“There
are lots of hot guys hanging around the models,” Traci explained, “and when I
told my mom I was bi she made it clear she expected grandchildren. So I’ve
spent more time with men. But I’m not dating anyone right now and am interested in you.”

The
way she said interested heated my core. I knew exactly what she meant and I
couldn’t wait get her home.

I
didn’t understand how such a gorgeous woman had been attracted to me, but I
wasn’t going to argue if fate wanted to give me an early Christmas present.

“How
long are you in town?”

“Extended
holiday. I don’t leave until after New Year’s.” She reached across the seat and
interlocked her fingers with mine. “We have plenty of time, Marta. And I want
to get to know all about you.”

I hope you enjoyed reading the Little Red Dress.

Do you like F/F reads?

Check out my F/F historical romance The Virgin Madam

Blurb:

After
a vicious outlaw murders her father, Laura Rutherford sees no future beyond
running the family brothel and kowtowing to the local gang. Not even marriage
offers escape. No man can compete with the beautiful women who dance the cancan
for her each night...at least not until a gentle stranger sweeps in and opens
her eyes to desires too long denied.

Joe
Bascum stumbles into Bitterroot Flats looking for a place to hide from a gunman
out for blood. When the innocent madam from the local brothel offers a bed and
bath, Joe accepts hoping to show the buttoned-up beauty just how right
forbidden desire can feel.

When
danger escalates, can Laura help Joe defeat the famous Fletcher gang, or is she
destined to live a lonely life as the virgin madam?